


Ol' Saint Mockingbird

by fearlesswindy



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: As much as Yuri can be considered fluff, Character Study, Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving, Pre-Time Skip, Supports expanded, ominous ending, yuri takes care of his people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlesswindy/pseuds/fearlesswindy
Summary: Once a year does the Savage Mockingbird don the hat of the giver, to bring good cheer and joy to all the forgotten children of Fodlan on Saint Serios day.After all, somebody has to do it. Who else would the mud squallers on this earth rely on?But then there's the certain privileged somebodies who have managed to worm their way into his heart. Naturally he set aside special gifts for them, ones that come without a demand for a return favor ('cause ain't he nice).Through thick and thin, his wolves matter most, but there's also the stubborn knight who loves to eat; a determined songstress who isn't to be underestimated; a long forgotten girl he once called friend.And of course, who in their right mind could forget the Ashen Demon?aka Yuri's making a list, he's checking it twice, he's murdered those who were naughty, not nice.
Relationships: Balthazar | Balthus & Constance & Hapi & Yuris | Yuri (Fire Emblem), Dorothea Arnault & Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Hapi & Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Yuri Leclerc, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & Bernadetta von Varley, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & Constance von Nuvelle, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc & My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 5





	Ol' Saint Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays! This was written for FE Compendium's Secret Anna exchange for Yvinaire.
> 
> Prompt was simply for Yuri doing any choice of activity so here he is being his Savage Mockingbird version of Old Saint Nick. 
> 
> Enjoy this very loosely holiday themed gift giving fic as an excuse to expand upon all of his supports! Try to suss out the holiday easter eggs as you read :)

Yuri had spread his wide wings far out around him, branching out to far corners of the realm at any given time, but none were so complicated a flight as the one he embarked upon every year for Saint Serios Day, the day of giving. It, like all things, had started out small; a coordinated effort for the poor squabble of the earth to enjoy something nice for once. Yet year after year, as his talent for opening his wings of protection loomed larger, so too did this. 

He planned it months in advance. There was no other way at this point. Setting aside trinkets and bobbles that caught his eye, including seemingly random objects as part of a trade agreement, and, depending on the person, sequencing several trades to ensure his goal. 

And this year that lucky bird happened to be Constance. He had caught a glimmer of a particular magical tome up on a tall shelf during an unusual trade with a particular elderly monk. Constance amused him in her efforts in crafting new, and usually pointless, spells. He had her smell on his nose, however, and it reeked chalk full of potential. A small investment today, bears larger fruits in the future, after all. And so he figured out what the old monk desired in exchange for the tome and returned months later for it.

He placed it wrapped on her nightstand the eve before Saint Serios Day, knowing she’d be up late crafting some ridiculous spell. _Perhaps one that turns rings into jelly,_ he mused, recalling the many he’s had to kiss over the years. 

Reaching around himself, he grabbed the small journal tucked into his waistband. It fit nicely into one hand, the soft leather binding worn, and opened it with a quick swish of his hand directly to the page he needed. His eyes studied it carefully, taking in all the tasks at hand for the day; filling in any potential obstacles, accounting for their time, and devised (or more accurately, reviewed) a plan to ensure all tasks would be complete.

This right here, as he had learned, was his favorite part of it all. The potential. It sparked hope within him that has served him his whole life. Right now, he was savoring the potential look on Constance’s face as she discovered his gift upon her return to the chambers. He hummed cheerfully.

Yuri, as he called himself nowadays, was in procession of two journals he kept a close secret. One was far more grim than the current in his hands. He had amused himself with that thought, knowing they were opposites is more ways than one. The larger journal, once a gift to him, he paid a great deal of respect to; reading through it and all its names, occasionally needing to add another, and never forgetting to pay it his private homage before bed. 

The smaller, currently in his hand, was similar in that it was also a list. Unlike the former, this one intended to bring joy to all under his outstretched wings and only required checking twice. 

* * *

Entering his chambers he was met by his most trusted, and highest ranking underlings. He hummed, pleased at their arrival. _Such timely and devoted ones._ He scanned the small gathering, counting thirteen, and paused when his sights laid on one poor boy whose nose was red with ill. “You’re sick. Go home.”

“But I can— _sniff_ —do it,” he swallowed the phlegm before continuing, “Mister Mockingbird!”

“I don’t think the orphanages will appreciate gifts of illness this year. Clean yourself up and go home. The others will take care of you.” The young boy pouted, but left. _Hrm, twelve can manage I suppose._ “Now Ranser and Dixon,” he called forth two lackeys. “Pick up Rudee’s sack and deliver it to the upper crest orphanage before continuing on your routes.”

“Aye, sir!” They responded. 

“Let’s make this year one to remember, my flock. Onwards!”

The twelve led the way with Yuri behind, secure in his knowledge no guard would alarm. And while he trusted these fools to deliver trinkets and bobbles to all of the orphanages devoid of church care; Yuri kept an eye for any mistakes, any lingering pace, and only once satisfied did he split off of the way.

The butcher’s light still warmed, as Yuri had instructed. He deposited the prearranged payment (an expensive doll from the Adrestia for his daughter, “fallen” off a wagon), leaving a _rap tap tap_ at the window to indicate he’d been by, not bothering to look back with no time to be had. 

* * *

Dawn was now breaking, forcing him to sprint back to Abyss, barely arriving with second to spare to see his dear friend Hapi stirring.

“Ugh, what are you doing in my bedroom, Yuribird? Thought you of all people would understand privacy.”

“I think you’ll be inclined to forgive the intrusion once you allow me to make you breakfast.”

“Barf. You know I hate eating in the mornings.”

“My point exactly. This is a breakfast _you_ would enjoy. I merely ask you to allow me to provide it.”

“A breakfast _I’d_ enjoy? Now I’m interested. Well? Go on, get with it.”

Yuri departed to the kitchens, being careful with his prep (for the person he procured it from had _very_ specific directions), hoping he would brew it just as Hapi would like. He returned to her chambers, tray with pot and two mugs in hand.

“Yuribird. You did not.” Not one to be overly expressive, he held a soft smile as he watched the aromatic coffee flavor filling the air affect her mood. So rarely did Hapi look….happy. She yanked the cup from his hands as soon as he poured one, inhaling the the steam and holding her breath to resist a long, contented sigh. 

“I did,” Yuri stated, “and there’s more than just this.” He placed the remainder of the bag holding the coffee beans on her bed. “Should be enough for about two weeks if the merchant I got them from is to be trusted. He was…very peculiar with the instructions on how to brew this stuff. I of course left you the instructions as well.”

“I—you better not be thinking I have something for you. ‘Cause I don’t. And I won’t be going out to get you something either.”

“I would never dream of it, Hapi. Sharing a cup with you is more than enough. Shall we?” Hapi had already been consuming her cup, but Yuri’s sense of formality, beaten into him after years of clawing his way into nobility, were hard to let go of. He’d never actually tried coffee before. With how Hapi went on about it, and the rarity of which it’d been, he had high expectations.

The cup lifted to his lips.

He took a sip.

And made an odious face.

It was bitter and foul. 

Hapi laughed, in the way that was uniquely Hapi, as Yuri poured cream and sugar into his cup, both disgusted at the blackened sludge she indulged in and sincerely happy he’d made her laugh.

* * *

He was thankful Saint Serios Day fell on a Saturday this year. It had meant that all student duties still had to be completed before the week’s end. Luckily, it hadn’t taken much to convince Manuela to allow his friend to forgo the crowded Church service in favor of greenhouse duties. A second bottle of whiskey and she’d kept quiet about it being his idea. Easy.

Not so easy: approaching Bernadetta in a manner she wouldn’t run away.

He had considered looming in a corner, waiting to see if she’d notice him (she would), but he didn’t have time to waste chasing her about and calming her. He opted to ambush and corner her instead. It was cruel, but so was life. _I can only hope these gifts show how genuine my intentions are._

He watched from the shadows as the kind hearted girl, head to the ground, entered the greenhouse. _If the Goddess, with all her knowledge above, ever decided to grant this bizarre one any semblance of a spine, I’m done for._ Even the savage mockingbird had a weakness, although anyone with an intellect of a buzzard could figure out he cares deeply for those around him. 

Bernadetta was something special, though. His shy, timid mark. His first friend with whom he thought nothing he could get in return and be perfectly content. He just wished she’d talk to him more, get to know each other as they once had. The gifts had an ulterior motive, but this was his best course of action; Saint Serios Day was the perfect excuse to approach her.

“Bernadetta.” She whipped around to look at him with lightning speed and froze, eyes bulged comically, curling her shoulders inwardly. A moment goes by without her acknowledging him and he sighs. “You’re standing right in front of me. Hardly a pebble on the ground. If you wish to learn to hide in plain sight perhaps you best be asking the professional.” 

She wavers and he notes she isn’t really breathing. Cautiously, he steps forward, just in case he needs to catch her as she faints. “I’ve brought you a gift—“

“A-a-a-a gift?” _Ah, she speaks._

“Yes, hardly the likes of those ridiculous pastel-colored bears you used to have—“

“HEY! You take that back! Friend Bears are _not_ ridiculous! An-and besides! You said the—the green one was your favorite!” She pouted at him adorably. He chuckled. It was not his favorite. None of them were. All hideous, mutated stuffed bears. But they made her happy and green was the least offensive color.

“Here. Happy Saint Serios day.” He presented her with a potted plant. Sketchy intel suggested she might like one of the foreign carnivorous plants and he knew her well enough to sort out good information from bad—regardless the source. 

She gasped, and for a split second he thought she had fainted. “Yuri!” She grabbed the pot from him and coo’d at the plant. “This is amazing! How did you even find it!? AH! You didn’t…kill anyone for this did you!?” She said, voice thick with accusation. 

“Oh, just some counts and dukes.” He’d taken the dying plant as payment for ensuring a new food supply to an orphanage on the coast. The headmistress had insisted she pay him despite his initial refusal, so he opted to take the pathetic looking dead plant instead of the money. He had made Constance nurse it back to health much to her chagrin. “Mess was worth it to see you smile.” He thinks she didn’t hear him, too busy admiring the plant. Gratitude and warmth fills him as he sees her talking to the plant, deciding on a name for it. “I also brought you these.” He presents a small pair of green gardening shears. 

“EEP!” She falls backwards. “Don’t kill me please! I didn’t mean to!!” He ignores her wails, coming closer to crouch near her. 

“Ah, so you know what these are for, then?” She nodded her head, trembling, huddled in the fetal position. He can’t help but admire her protecting the dear plant with her body. 

“Just—let it be over quickly!”

“We’ve shared a number of battles now, have we not, Bernadetta?” He knows she won’t answer so he continues, “You’re becoming quite the viper with that bow. A snake waiting in the grass to strike.”

“W-w-wait? You’re calling _me_ a deadly snake?” He thinks she’s pleased by that. 

“I am. However, when anyone approaches you I can’t help but notice your deadly nature falters. I’d hate for you to get harmed. Defend yourself with these up close. I already know you’re good with them.”

“You-you really trust me with these? After—“

“I do. If you’ll actually look up you’ll even see they’re green.”

“But green’s your favorite!” He smiled. He hadn’t exactly reminded her of that and yet all the same she remembered. She looked up at him tentatively, grabbing the shears from his hand with a speed that was almost imperceptible. _If only she’d use that speed to disarm actual foes she wouldn’t need this protection._

“Glad you can remember we’re friends. Don’t get hurt, okay?” He said standing up and walking away.

“Hey, Yuri?” She said with a gentle softness. The one that might do him in one day if the Goddess ever decided to grant boons again. Or maybe she didn’t need it. Maybe she just needed time.

“Hmm?”

“You don’t get hurt either. I’ll—I’ll…I’ll stab them with my shears if they do!”

He chuckled.

_Viper indeed._

* * *

He’d spent too much time with Bernadetta. He’d already accounted for it of course and shifted his plan accordingly. Dorothea’s time would need to come later. 

He caught Ingrid just as she was exiting the training grounds. Right on time. 

“Yuri? You’re out and about today.” He forced back an eye roll. Ingrid’s way of accusing individuals through use of stating the obvious was not as clever as she thought. Then again, it likely had more effectiveness on the people two idiots she typically used it on.

“It’s a holiday. Care for some lunch?”

“Oh, yes please. I’m starving after the work out I just had. I heard the dining hall was serving skewers. If we’re quick we should be able to get the best cuts.”

“I was actually thinking somewhere in town. That one butcher—“ She gasped before he could finish.

“With the steak fillet that melts in your mouth?”

“My treat.”

“Oh, no, Yuri you couldn’t.”

“I insist. It’s a holiday after all. Let this be my gift to you.”

“Oh well, if you insist…”

It was a testament to Ingrid’s enjoyment of this particular butcher’s slices of meat for her to only protest him a singular time. 

They walked into town, passing a home he’d visited in the early hours to see a young girl sitting outside brushing the hair of a porcelain doll. He chuckled with warmth from the sight and when Ingrid asked him what was so funny he mentioned something about Sylvain being jealous when he’d find out he’d managed to get her out on a date. A punch in the shoulder and secure promises this was in fact, not a date, they arrived at the meat market. 

The butcher greeted Ingrid as if she were a minor celebrity. He seated them at the previously arranged selected booth and with a wink to Yuri, danced off to slice them some of the freshest cuts. 

Ingrid had worked her way through three sandwiches when she asked him if he was going to finish his. He’d purposely only taken one bite—he was saving himself for the feast later tonight—and passed it to her with ease.

The way she moaned and licked her lips while eating challenged much of the imagery he’d seen growing up in a brothel, but he remained pleasant and pretended he didn’t see nor hear it. He was happy to see her indulge, the girl needed to cut loose more often, but a sandwich was hardly a gift. 

He also knew Ingrid wouldn’t easily accept a gift unprompted. 

He reached under the table to grab the item the butcher had prepared for him. “You took quite the nasty fall for me last mission.” He had intentionally spoken to her right as she’d taken a bite and delighted in the small panic he had caused her. She furiously chewed and gulped down some water while he patiently (and with much amusement) waited.

“That was nothing? Was merely doing my duty.”

“Well, nonetheless I am thankful. I just so happened to have come across something after you had saved my life; thought it might help you to continue saving more. As it will be your duty as a knight. Saving the unfortunate.” He had carefully crafted that statement in hopes she wouldn’t refuse such a lavish item. He thinks he might have even won some bonus points for having not actually lied. 

He placed the finely crafted Almyran riding stirrups on the table.

“That is…I’ve never even seen stirrups crafted like that before.” She picks them up, investigating them. “Is that an autolock feature? And the design in the metal! Yuri, you must have paid so much for these,” she said in awe.

“Who says I paid.” Immediately her eyes narrowed.

“Where did you get these,” she said curtly.

“Trust me when I say the original owner won’t be needing them anymore.”

“You know that doesn’t make me feel better. I can’t accept this.”

“Tell me, is it that it’s from a dead man that makes you uncomfortable or that it’s an impossibly thoughtful gift?” He already knew the answer. Her glare was still worth it. 

He popped open his compact to touch up his lipstick, signaling the butcher over while Ingrid squirmed from the gift. 

“I still can’t accept this.”

“You can, and you will as I will now be leaving and not taking said item back with me. Whether you leave it on the table to go to waste is up to you.” He stood up and dropped a large pouch of gold in the butcher’s hands. Payment for the meal and the final installment for the feast tonight. 

* * *

Summoning Dorothea was laughably easy. There was a reason she’d been his floating puzzle piece in his flight around Garreg Mach. 

All one had to do was loudly extol the virtues of nobility and then listen carefully for the beautiful sounding ‘tsch.’ Follow it, and there, behold, Dorothea.

However, he wished to lure out Dorothea in a manner that would not evoke her ire. Lacking the time and resources to search her out, and unpleasant as it would be, he knew the way to summon a songstress.

But he’ll be damned if he’d actually sung. _No, no for that she’d owe me a rather large favor._

Instead, he parked himself in a shady, secluded spot near the dining hall, humming and whistling some of his favorite opera tunes, finally settling on an old favorite of his from back in the day. 

“Yurikins? Where are you? I know a countertenor when I hear one you know.”

“Over here ladybird,” be bemoaned. 

“Was that _Overture_ from ‘The Fields of Spring Aplenty?’”

“Hm. _Fortunes of the Ill Peoples_ from ‘Serios’s Destined Kin’ actually. Although sped up, as I had, I suppose it has its similarities.”

“That’s a rather morose tune to twist into a lively tempo, don’t you think?” He shrugged.

“It’s how my mother would sing it to me. Became a bit of a rallying tune where I’m from.”

“Ah, now that I can relate to.” She started singing, because of course she did. It was his bait after all. 

> “‘ _Won’t you listen to their cries;_
> 
> _Tear the Goddess from her sky;_
> 
> _Won’t you listen, listen;_
> 
> _Come triumph for our souls;_
> 
> _From the bottom of the world!’_

Ah. It was quite controversial if I recall,” she said, normally. “I believe the Mittelfrank Opera House for a time omitted it from their productions. Oh, no, perhaps I shouldn’t have sung it here. You think any nuns overheard?”

“With your voice? Certainly. But it was beautiful enough all your sins were forgiven instantly.”

“Oh, stop it with your flattery.”

“Here.” He plopped a loosely bound manuscript in between them. “Take this instead then. Just, don’t ask where I got it.” He hid a shudder at the memory. He’d won it in a betting match against Balthus. How _he’d_ had it, had been a complete mystery. One Balthus refused to answer or even bet his answer on.

“What is…” She read the title, ‘Forlorn Murderer, Love’s Lost?’”

“An unproduced opera. Some of the staff music’s still in there too. My gift to you this Saint Serios day on behalf of this begrudging friendship you and I have. I knew the instant I read it, you’d love it.”

“I would hardly call us ‘begrudging,’ Yurikins. You’re giving me a gift after all. And as it happens, I have one for you too.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. The next time I need someone to help me out with singing in an opera. I won’t ask you.”

Yuri placed a hand on his heart as if Indech’s arrow had pierced it. “Ah, my lady, for shame to think you have yet to find a husband with such charms as yours.” Dorothea rolled her eyes, opting to thumb through the manuscript instead of paying any mind to his jest.

“Just what is this about anyway? A tragedy or a comedy?”

“I believe it, as written, was intended to be tragedy, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll take it for comedy.”

“So this ‘Forlorn Murderer’ finds happiness in the end? Wait, no, don’t answer that. What’s the premise?”

“The heroine, with the help of a brooding man, seeks revenge upon all the evil and wicked men who took advantage of her over the years. I won’t spoil the rest.”

“Hrm, I agree this does sound like my sort of thing. Sounds like you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Yuri had only meant to read the first few pages after he’d won it. Dumb thing had completely captivated him. Shame it’d never be produced due to its toeing the line of what’s considered “decent” for the stage. Well, it might see the light of day on the burlesque stage, sure. Not so much the operatic one as this author had intended.

“Well, consider me absolutely won over. It has all the makings of a great opera it seems. Wonder why it never got produced.”

“Oh, that. You’ll find out,” he said with a devilish smile.

“Yuri…” she warned. 

“Read it. We’ll have tea later to discuss,” he said with a wink.

* * *

“Hey, man! What’s the deal!? You think I wouldn’t notice what you’ve been going around doing?”

Yuri sighed to himself. He had wondered when Balthus would finally A. Notice he’d been giving gifts, B. Realize he had yet to receive one and C. Find Yuri to yell at him not to get him anything.

Timing was apt though, after this he could manage some sleep before meeting the Professor. 

“Constance was all ‘This book is most fortuitous. How dare that man leave it without a word,’” Balthus said in a falsetto that made Yuri snort. “And then Hapi! Sheesh boss, I ain’t ever seen that gal so happy to have a drink that isn’t booze before. You better have not come back down to Abyss to give your dear, ol’ friend Balthus something.”

“And what if I’m here to do such a thing? What then?” Yuri postulated. 

“Well then I’d tell you to take your gift and shove it. I don’t need presents—least of all from the likes from my friends, you hear me?”

“And what if it’s money that I’m here to provide?”

“Nah, uh. Don’t need that from you either.”

“Mm, then I suppose it’s a good thing I am here to do neither.” Balthus took a step back in shock.

“Wait, you aren’t?”

“No,” Yuri hummed, pretending to be deep in thought, as if he hadn’t already planned this. “Although, I suppose, now that I’ve bumped into you…hrm, yes…”

Balthus stamped his foot on the ground like the impatient child he is. “Out with it already! I don’t have all day, you know!”

“I need your help with something. Come.”

Yuri turned without checking first to see if he’d follow. He trusted his wolves more than anyone, and that trust had been forged to go both ways. Balthus would drop anything to pay heed to Yuri’s word.

They sat down at a table inside the Wilted Rose. The barkeep wordlessly swung by their table without any indication from Balthus or Yuri. Perks of being the leader of the underworld. She paid them no mind, like most Abyssians, and deposited two pints. Yuri ignored his, sliding it closer to Balthus who was already taking a swig from his.

“I need help determining this object’s worth.” He placed a rectangular wooden box between them, opening it on a hinge to reveal a felted game board featuring black and white elongated triangles. Checkers lined the side, secured inside a compartment, along with two dice carved from bone.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen the likes of that before. Some sort of game. It’s popular out there in Almyra.” Yuri smiled. It wasn’t any information he didn’t already know, but he enjoyed knowing Balthus knew these things as well. “I think it’s called backgammon. Here, you set it up like so.” Balthus places the checkers onto the board and then teaches him (more or less) how to play.

“For a man who is uncertain of this game’s name you certainly are sure of its rules,” Yuri teased.

“Listen, I only pay attention to the stuff that matters. Who cares what it’s called so long as you know the rules!”

“I take it you’ve played this against a number of Almyran individuals, then?”

“Eh, something like that.” Yuri laughed at that, imagining yet more reasons Balthus is in hiding, but is respectful enough not to inquire further.

They take turns rolling dice, moving checkers, and swapping stories. Spending time with him had always been easy for Yuri and with the way Balthus enjoyed gambling much of his valuables away he ascertained the gift of his time would be most treasured. 

“Wait a tick,” Yuri said. “That’s four moves. You can’t do that!”

“Ha, ha! That’s what you think, chump! Lookee at the dice! Double the fours! Double the moves!”

“No way, you’re just making up rules to mess with me.”

“Them’s the rules, boss man! Seems my luck is looking up!”

Balthus won the first game, eager for a second, demanding they make bets this time. It had become a custom between them to bet questions instead of money.

“I wanna know what you were looking for, going through Aelfric’s things the other night,” Balthus requested. _So someone had been watching. Figures it’d been one of his wolves._ The four of them had been conflicted still regarding Aelfric’s betrayal.

“Very well. In that case you will divulge who you spent your pithy amount of money on. Don’t think I didn’t see you bartering at the marketplace the other day.”

“You’re on!”

Yuri lost. Sometime’s the dice just aren't with you. Yuri had worked hard in all aspects of life to ensure he had every advantage backing him, but no matter. A loss is a loss.

“I was searching for a gift,” Yuri said, paying up.

“A gift? What kind of gift? And who for? Come on, you can’t just go searching through his stuff without telling us!”

“That sounded like an awful lot of questions for a man not setting the board. My question still stands as wager. Come now.”

Finally Yuri succeeded in placing all his checkers off the board before Balthus could.

“Ah, dangit!” Balthus shouted. “I would have had you if not for those double sixes.”

“Mmn, yes, a shame. Come on, spill. I want to hear which person was so important you actually spent your money on instead of gambling it away.”

“Ah, you gotta promise not to tell anyone. ‘Specially not that Claude fellow.” Yuri raised his eyebrows impatiently. 

“Fine, fine. I got a cute stuffed animal for Hilda,” Balthus admitted begrudgingly. Yuri laughed.

“Hilda?” He said, almost in disbelief. To think big Balthus would go after his former best friend’s little sis. 

“Yeah! And what of it? She’s a beast with that axe! You’ve seen it!” Yuri laughed remembering the times Hilda had carved through several of the golems clean with her axe. He thinks one of those times she might have saved Balthus’s life. 

From the corner of his eye, a young girl approached their table. Yuri wondered what time it was. Had he really spent so much of it with Balthus? He sighed, knowing a nap was now out of the realm of possibilities. 

“Uhm, excuse me, Mister Mockingbird,” a young girl said.

“Yes, what is it Donna,” Yuri said. 

“Uhm, you said to let you know when—“

“Yes. Thank you. You’re dismissed.”

“Who was that?” Balthus said. 

“‘fraid I have business elsewhere now, friend. But this was fun. Say, why don’t you keep the game. Next time you fancy getting some answers out of me you know what to do.”

“Ha, ha! You got it boss man! Just you wait. I’ll be rolling those double sixes next time!”

He returned to his chambers to collect the letter he’d found amongst Aelfric’s things. If it was up to Yuri, he would have burned all of his belongings shortly after he’d tried to kill them, but Church property was Church property and not his to decide what to do with.

Of course, seeing as how the person he intended to give this paper to technically worked for the Church, he saw no issue with nabbing it. He was...merely relocating it. 

* * *

The Professor’s room was conveniently close to one of the Abyss exits. He hardly had to try to conceal himself as he approached his door, knocking in a code the two had long ago decided on. 

“Yuri,” he said, opening the door. If he were surprised, he didn’t show it, but Yuri liked to think he was.

“Surprised to see me, friend?”

“You used the code.” _So, no._ Yuri hid his disappointment with an excelled practice. _Ah, whatever, it’s fun to dream._

“I’m in a terrible need for a date tonight. Was hoping you’d be up for it.” Byleth paused, staring at Yuri’s face—or rather, studying him. Probably searching for his intentions. _Good luck, I doubt I’ll ever let anyone close enough to know those. Although..._ Even Yuri couldn’t pretend the Professor wasn’t something special. 

“Hold on,” the Professor finally said. Yuri watched as he turned back into his room to grab the Sword of the Creator. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Yuri snickered, leaning his arm against the door frame to block Byleth in. He had the audacity to look far too cute with a pout at Yuri. _No, no, I will not be giving you the gift of battle for once._

“Ah, you are just too cute, Professor. I appreciate the call to arms, but it will be wholly unnecessary for this.”

“But you said, ‘date.’ The last time—“

“That was a life or death situation. Now is Saint Serios day, and I have a gift for you. May I enter?” Yuri entered without waiting for the answer, pushing past Byleth, their bodies connecting for a teasing moment. Byleth wordlessly closed the door behind him. 

“I had the opportunity to search through some of Aelfric’s things the other day. There was a book he’d kept that was out of sorts from the rest. ‘Brimmy’s Grand Adventure,’ a child’s tale, tucked away with the rest of his history and Church tomes.” Byleth raised a suspicious eyebrow at this information. “Yes, I thought the exact same thing,” Yuri said, reading his thoughts. “So I cracked it open and found a collection of pressed flowers. I’d bet good money that this was your mother’s. Sadly, I wasn’t able to take the book, the Church would have noticed what with them still scouring through his things and all, but I was able to take this.” Yuri passed Byleth the small, folded up letter. 

He opened it, and slowly read it’s contents. Yuri watched as he gently leaned the sword against the wall, focus being pulled to the words on the page, sitting down at his desk as time passed without once looking up for the letter. Only once Yuri was certain he’d finished he spoke up. 

“I think it had been intended for you father and, for whatever reason, was scrapped and never sent.”

“He came back early,” Byleth mumbled. 

“Hrm?”

“My father. He had come back to the Monastery earlier than expected. I’ve read so in his journal. Sitri—my mother must have written this the day of his return. It...it was shortly before I was born.”

“A love tale for the ages, those two.”

Yuri waited in silence as Byleth read over the letter again. He nearly fell over when he saw Byleth smile warmly, but stopped himself—for as quickly as the smile touched Byleth’s face, a scowl replaced it. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you go through quite the range of expressions, friend. Please, share. I’m intrigued. I did find it after all. I think I’m owed that much.”

“I—“ He looked like he was about to spill it all, but then narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said this was a gift.”

“It is, but you appear to be lacking for one in return.” Not that Yuri would ever expect one. But a bargaining chip is a bargaining chip.

He barely registered a shrug from Byleth who looked down at the letter again, sorrow spreading across his face. “I think my mother’s hand is similar to my own. There is so little I know of her. It is…nice to know there are some things from her I take after.”

“You mean, beside in looks.” He was, after all, the spitting image of Sitri. He even had the green hair to match now. 

Byleth blinked at him, confused. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see the resemblance.” 

“Hilarious. You’re joking, right?” Byleth did not indulge him with a response. Instead they read the letter for a third time and Yuri, for a moment, allowed himself to gloat at this victory. He’d been unsure how Byleth would react, a memory of two deceased parents definitely wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was clear he’d touched his dormant heart with this one. 

“Rhea,” Byleth finally spoke up, the subtle scowl returning to his face. “I believe there’s something she’s not telling me about my mother, me. Claude has been—“

“Ah, ah, ah. Scheming later. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”

“Late?”

“For our date,” he said with a wink.

* * *

With Byleth by his side, no one batted an eye as they took two horses from the stables and made their way through town. Not once did Byleth ask him where they were going. It was the kind of trust he greatly appreciated and that had been the kindling for his fondness of him. 

There was only one non-Church sanctioned orphanage near Garreg Mach. All other’s he had sent his flock to find. While he did lend his aid to all the orphanages he could, he knew the Church handled the kids well when it came to holidays. But, as with all things Church related, generosity was only a commodity. It was up to him to fill in the gaps. 

Gellarstein’s Home for the Forgotten was a dilapidated sorry excuse for a house. It needed new shutters, new glassed windows, and roofing for the kitchen. The paint on the walls were peeling, with much of the brick foundation loose or missing--giving the home it’s charming slant. It was, essentially, the home where children (especially the ones who were old enough to look after themselves, but still too young to be on their own) were sent to when the Church had no beds. 

Byleth and Yuri dismounted and walked their horses to a tree in front of the Home to rest. Already Yuri could hear his favorite music dancing in his ears: laughter, and jolly-making, and delight being had by all. He motioned Byleth to follow him around back.

After Remire, many kids had ended up here, the Church lacking the space to take in more orphans. The Gellarstein’s took them in, in spite of there also being no beds.

Yuri found some. 

And then spent three weeks finding people willing to clean the place of bedbugs. 

Never a boon without a curse, as the saying goes.

Around the back of the home, tables were strewn about lopsidedly with various stews and breads collected on them. The Gellarstein’s, getting up there in age, were resting beneath a shaded tree. Mister with a lute and Missus’ with her voice, singing traditional Saint Serios day tunes. Covered meats were collected on one of the tables, Yuri pleased to see the butcher had successfully completed his delivery. 

Most of the kids weren’t paying attention to the small performance, instead eyeing the delicious food. _Waiting for the guest of honor it seems._

“Oi! Lookie there Charlie! Saint Mockinbird’s here!” One of the kids shouted. _Toby,_ Yuri recalled. _He’s grown nearly a full foot since last I saw him. Should probably see if he’s set up for work yet._

“ _Saint Mockingbird_?” Byleth side-eyed him with curiosity. 

“What? Like you aren’t saintly yourself? Why do you think I invited you? Shame I couldn’t find two more.” Yuri teased. Byleth looked entirely unamused and Yuri couldn’t help but laugh. He knew for a fact Seteth had already been giving him lessons on the Goddess and her Saints in preparation for his ‘revelation.’

Yuri turned to tease Byleth more regarding the matter, but paused upon seeing his widen-eyes. Following his siteline, Yuri saw he’d spotted Helen, recent joinee of Gellarstein’s Home and survivor of Remire. In fact, Byleth was likely now realizing there were many survivors of the terrible fires and immoral experiments that took place in the village of Remire.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Yuri said cautiously. “But you did in fact save their lives. You did all that you could. They know that they’d be dead in the ground too if not for you and your students. They also know since then you’ve been orphaned yourself. They see you as one of their own, you know.” Byleth gave him a glare. “Sorry, friend, but they demand stories. Particularly about you. Trust me in saying seeing you again will give them hope. A reason to keep marching on so to speak. So go. Mingle. Or don’t. Ditch me and see how it’ll go for you later. Like I care,” Yuri finished, tossing his hair flippantly. 

Byleth side-eyed him again, but stepped forward for more of the kids to see him. Yuri smiled to himself. He knew he’d take that bait. He was a tough nut to crack, but ultimately people are all too easy to read.

The children caught wind of him entering the back area. 

“Is that…”

“It is!”

“Ashen Demon!”

“Are the others with you!?”

“Where’s the freckily one?”

“--’Shudup Beth!”

“What? Everyone knows you thought he was _sooo cute_ when he saved you.”

“Where have you been?”

“Did you kill more ugly big brains?”

“Show us your sword!”

“Are you talking about Ashe?” Byleth said, clearly more comfortable talking about his students than himself. Both Beth and her friend, Frederick, turned red and Yuri chucked. He hoped he’d be there later when Byleth would tell the silver-haired man about his preteen fans. 

“Thank you, Yuri,” Mister said. “You have no idea how much this means to them. You know we never anticipate your-”

“But you will always have it,” Yuri said, cutting off the aging man. “I wish I could say otherwise, but someone has to look out for the outcasts. But know this: even if there were others willing to lend their aid, you’d still have mine. You get the delivery this morning?” Yuri changed the topic. He shouldn’t receive praise for this, for providing people with the bare minimum and _Goddess forbid_ , some holiday cheer. He wondered if Dansa, a first timer in this role, did well. 

“Oh, yes. The children appreciated the new clothing. They grow too fast at this age.” Yuri hummed in agreement and listened to his stomach growl. 

“Hey friend!” He shouted to Byleth who was now playing an unwilling game of keepaway with his sword. “I believe the guest of honor has first pickings,” Yuri said, inclining his head to the food tables.

“Oh, there’s no need for me to go first-”

“DIBS!” three of the kids cried out at once. 

Floodgates opened, and they rushed the tables. 

Yuri made sure to eat last, and only after each child had returned for seconds.

* * *

Finally in bed, Yuri checks his list a second time, crossing off each name, and scribbling down notes of how they enjoyed their gift. Only once a year does Yuri allow himself to sleep like the dead and as soon as that last name gets crossed, he wills it so. Nearly fifty hours of being up straight will not do well for his skin, but sacrifices must be made. 

He placed Balthus on guard with strict orders: no creature shall stir him, not even a rat.

He was asleep for three, blessed hours. 

“By all accounts, Yuri,” Constance said at one of two volumes she had. Considering he was asleep, this was the worse one.

“Mmrph,” he said into a pillow, turning away from her.

“I do say I am most pleased with your promanading through the Monastery-” She was somehow getting louder.

“Remind me what I pay you for?” He shouted, directed at Balthus who was-if he still wanted a job after this-still at the door.

“-But I am most remiss you felt the need to deliver my newly treasured gift-”

“Sorry, boss, she was quite insistent,” Yuri heard faintly over Constance’s award winning display of vocal projection. 

_Three hours. Saints._

“-in private and not at all to my face!”

“Gee. I wonder why,” Yuri bemoaned, sitting up in bed.

“Well, surely it is not because you are wishing no thanks! Both Hapi and Balthus gleefully informed me of their most welcomed company-”

“Constance-”

“-by your hand, and all I was left with was a meager tome upon my nightstand. Not even a note! To think there was something upon my face that disgusts you so!”

“Constance.”

“Verily, that is my name,” she said with that sharp tongue he admired her for. “Speak up, for I wish to be hearing of your torrid apology.”

“I am,” he said and sighed heavily, “terribly sorry to you and for not having spent time with you on Saint Serios day. Once House Nuvelle is restored, I promise to spend many great holidays there basking in your company.”

“My prestigious company, you mean.”

“But of course, my lady.” He stared at her, taking comfort he could at least look annoyed with her despite the noble-talk. He waited for any more complaints and when there were none, “So is it a ‘newly treasured gift’ or simply a ‘meager tome?’” he jested.

“And wouldn’t you like to know?” she huffed, turning on her heel to leave. Yuri could hear the click-clacking of her heels echoing down the hall. 

Balthus stuck his head in. “Sorry again boss, she was threatening to turn me into a shrunken green man of sorts with pointed ears. Could you imagine?”

“You let anyone in this room again in the next twenty-four hours and I won’t need to imagine,” he threatened. 

“Right you are, boss.”

* * *

Three weeks had gone by and Yuri had the sense something bad was soon to occur. Saint Serios day had gone off without a hitch, and he was still receiving many thank you notes from the orphanages around Fodlan. 

Never a boon without a curse.

Many new faces had been showing up in the surrounding towns, most, if not all, were Adrestian. Most were twenty-something single men and women. No families. No children. Inns were quickly turning out no vacancies, but no apartments were being leased for long terms.

Other than that, there was no suspicious activity, but Yuri felt a larger game was afoot. A move like this, amassing people in one location, well, it’s what he’d do if he was about to mount a secret attack.

Why though and on whom eluded him. Important puzzle pieces to know if he wished to strategize his own involvement. He’d hold off throwing his hat in with a side for as long as possible, but if this engagement grew larger than what he was already anticipating, his hand may be forced in order to ensure the safety of his people.

Nobility can quarrel over whatever issues so long as they keep it in the courts. Once they pound feet to the ground, however, they always forget people reside on the bottom of the world.

Needing more intel, and not trusting anyone with the sensitive information that could be at play, he made use of his promise to his mother and set out to visit her finally.

Long ago, she’d made him promise he’d never visit her on holidays. Something about she didn’t want to become one of those old hags who only hear from their children on ‘important’ dates. She wanted to see him whenever he wanted and know he was visiting because he wanted to and not out of obligation. And never, ever with a gift. After he’d nearly died as a child, they’d quietly resolved each other’s presence was more than enough.

Some years he’d visit before Saint Serios day, others, like this year, were well after. Something in his gut worried him. This may be the last visit for a while.

She spotted him through the open window of the house she shared with two other women. Her make up was perfect, as always, and her complexion similar to Yuri’s, but her eyes were a gentle green, and hair a soft brown, twisted into a top knot that framed her face beautifully. She was getting up there in age, and if she had wrinkles forming at her brows, Yuri wouldn’t say. 

She was stirring something in a large bowl tucked into her arm and without batting an eye, nodded him to come on in.

She hugged him sideways and awkwardly, still holding the bowl and kissed him on his temple. “There’s dough on the counter, love. It needs some more kneading.” _Always to work, because there’s always work to be done,_ she had told him frequently growing up. 

Yuri smiled warmly as he beat into the dough, matching the rhythm to the song his mother was now humming. His favorite.

_Won’t you listen to their cries;_

_Tear the Goddess from her sky_

From the intel he’d gathered the newly crowned Emperor Edelgard was planning some sort of assault. Rumors had it she wanted an upheaval of the class system. He thinks the attack might actually be directed at the Church itself.

_Won’t you listen, listen;_

_Come triumph for our souls;_

Of course every commoner knew when the nobles would squabble over meaningless semantics who would be first, the longest, and the hardest.

He folded the dough over, ruminating how he’d care for the impending levels of poverty, injury, and sickness. Some might chastise his methods, but when you’re already the leader of the underground, it made sense where and for who he’d make his stand:

_From the bottom of the world!_

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you enjoyed. I love interacting with readers in the comments, don't be shy! (or do, I don't run your life)
> 
> I wanted to add parts with Ashe and Claude (because we were ROBBED of supports for them) but I wanted to keep this consistent in terms of source material. But I imagine Yuri would have gotten Ashe specialized thieving tools and convinced him it's a good thing to hold onto as a knight. For Claude he would have gotten him secretsssssszz and then spent the interaction toying with him as to whether or not it's free information. If any of ya'll have seen Eddie Izzard's skit where she says yes and then no, and then yes (but no)...but seriously yes (shakes head no) that's what Yuri would have done before giving Claude some incense from Almyra with a wink. Go watch Dress to Kill is all I'm saying.
> 
> Other small notes:  
> -Yuri definitely killed some Almyran spy and looted the body  
> -Ingrid saved Yuri during the fight at Remire 'cause he was trying to save too many kids and almost burned in the flames holding back foes  
> -The opera Yuri gives to Dorothea is just a thinly veiled dirty romance book  
> -Balthus definitely wasn't upset he lost it to Yuri. Nope, no sir. He doesn't miss it one ounce, nor does he talk about it to anyone and he absolutely doesn't see himself as the male lead.  
> -Byleth visits the children once more before Edelgard's attack, he brings Ashe with him and together they teach them some archery. The two pre teens give Ashe a cute love letter.  
> -Bernadetta uses the garden shears as a hail mary to get out of the Battle for Garreg Mach  
> -Hapi becomes a coffee snob and if I could give her a "don't talk to me until i've had my coffee" mug I would  
> -Honestly just Hapi with a whole bunch of mugs with stupid sayings on them is amusing to me
> 
> Follow me on twitter @fearlesswindy1 :)


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